


Seven Minutes In Heaven

by decadent_mousse



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Of the serious kind not the oops I grew an extra pair of arms kind, lab accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:32:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/pseuds/decadent_mousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt never comes to bed, and Hermann gets worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes In Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teki10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teki10/gifts).



> This is _sort of_ a companion piece to [teki10](http://archiveofourown.org/users/teki10/pseuds/teki10)'s fic, [Earthquake](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2194005), though I went in a different direction with it! <3

“Newton, I’m going to bed.”

“Mmkay, good night.”

Hermann turned off his computer and stared at Newton’s back meaningfully.  “It’s two am.”

“...So?”

“I insist that you come to bed with me."

"Can't get enough of me, huh?" Newt snickered.

"That is _not_ what i meant.  You haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours and I insist that you at least attempt to get some rest.”

Newton waved a hand in his direction without looking up from what he was doing.  "I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead.  Besides, this sample isn't gonna dissect itself, dude."

Hermann sighed and grabbed his cane, grimacing as he stood after spending the better part of an hour pecking at his keyboard and crammed into a chair that had seen better days and didn’t offer the best support.  He knew it was pointless to argue with Newton.  He would come to bed when he was ready and not a minute before – especially when there was something new for him to study.

“Please don’t stay up _all_ night.”

“Technically, it’s morning.”

“You are not helping your case, Newton.”

Newt sighed and actually stopped what he was doing for a moment to turn around and look him in the eye, gaze seemingly sincere.  “I promise I’ll come to bed.  I just need a few more minutes, okay?”  He grinned.  "Gives you time to warm up the bed for me."

Hermann rolled his eyes and stalked wearily out of the lab.

~

It was four in the morning and Hermann was still lying in bed alone.  He had dozed periodically, but inevitably the absence of the warm body that had more often than not occupied the space beside him for nearly two years now brought him back to wakefulness.

_God help me, that man is stubborn_ , he thought, a small amount of fondness tingeing his aggravation.  

He considered simply waiting for Newton to meander back to their quarters of his own volition, but it was very late and Newton was either _still_ studying his new sample or had fallen asleep at his desk or on the couch, and neither scenario was likely to result in the night of restful sleep Hermann had had in mind for either of them.

He crawled out of bed with a tired sigh, ran a hand over his face, and slipped on a pair of slippers.  His state of dress earned a few odd looks from people he passed in the halls of the Shatterdome, but it was _four am_ and Hermann was not awake enough to be concerned with propriety.  Once he fetched his stubborn mule of a boyfriend, he fully intended on collapsing back into bed, so he didn't see much point in changing out of his pajamas.

~

By the time he reached the lab he was much more awake than he cared to be at four-fifteen in the morning, irritated, and ready to forcibly drag Newton Geiszler to bed – kicking and screaming, if necessary.

“Newton?  Are you in here?”

At first glance, the lab appeared to be empty.  Then the details came slowly into terrible focus.  Newton’s specimen was still lying on its table, but the table was coated in some strange powdery-looking substance that likely would have set off contamination alarms if they'd had a better equipped, better funded lab.  There was a manual alarm, but clearly Newton hadn't set it off.

_Newton_.

Hermann looked around frantically.  There were signs of some kind of struggle.  The surgical tray Newton usually laid his tools on had been knocked to the floor, along with a nearby chair, and near the chair was–

Hermann felt like someone had pulled a rug out from under him.  Everything felt lopsided and surreal as he scrambled across the lab and knelt beside Newton – who was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, unmoving.  

“Newton!” he exclaimed urgently, lightly shaking his shoulder.  

When that earned him no response he rolled him over carefully.  There weren’t any visible signs of injury.  There also weren't any visible signs of breathing.  He wasn’t breathing.

Everything seemed grind to a halt.  He couldn't be dead.  Mere hours before he had been working and smiling – and _breathing_ – he couldn't be–

Hermann reached over and punched the emergency button on the nearby desk, because he didn’t trust his voice enough to call anyone and he didn’t have time to sit and explain the nature of the emergency while Newton was lying on the floor – _not dead_ – with no blood flowing to his brain.  He had no way of knowing how long he had been lying there.

He’d learned the basics of CPR roughly a year ago during a mandatory class that most people had sighed and trudged through reluctantly.  Hermann had been no exception.  He hadn’t seen the point when he and Newton were generally far out of harm’s way in relation to everyone else.  That seemed like such a foolish assumption now.  It was probably a miracle in and of itself that it had taken Newton this long to get himself–

Hermann stopped that train of thought before it had time to reach its destination.  

He locked his elbows and pushed downward in the center of Newton's chest, putting as much of his weight into it as he could.  He wasn't sure if it was enough, but if he just focused on the ratio and the timing, he could ignore how his wrists were starting to ache and tire, that the medical team _still_ hadn’t arrived, and that Newton was still lying unbreathing on the floor – and if he could ignore all those things, he could keep going for as long as he needed to.  He just had to keep going until someone got there.

Everything was a frantic, unreal blur until the medical team arrived, then everything suddenly snapped into focus.  The reality of the situation punched him hard in the gut and he thought for a moment he was going to be sick right there in the middle of the lab, just a few feet away from where Newton was–

He sat heavily in a nearby chair, because suddenly his legs didn’t seem to want to support him anymore.  

Someone he didn’t recognize approached him.  “Dr. Gottlieb, we really should get you to the infirmary.  You may have been exposed–”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The EMT reached out to place her hand on his shoulder.  “Dr. Gottlieb–”

“I am _not_ leaving him,” he hissed, recoiling from the touch.  “I’m not.”

~

Hermann awoke with a start.  He was in the infirmary, at Newton’s bedside – which is where he’d spent most of his evenings after finishing his work for the day.  The medical staff were continuously assuring him that they’d let him know if there were any changes, but if something were to… happen… he wanted to be there.  Although, the doctors were more optimistic about Newton’s chances of survival now than they had been a week ago, and he was finally breathing on his own again.

He let out a soft sigh and gave Newt’s hand a gentle squeeze… and received a gentle squeeze in response.

“Newton?”

For a few moments he didn’t stir, and Hermann began to wonder if it had just been his imagination.  Then Newton groaned softly and slowly opened his eyes as though it took a great deal of effort.  

“Newton,” he repeated softly, trying to keep the edge of hysteria out of his voice.  He was likely to be disoriented, and Hermann didn’t want to alarm him.

Newt blinked blearily in his direction.  “Hermann?” he whispered, voice hoarse from a week of disuse.  

“I’m here.”

“Where are my glasses?”

“Hold on.”  Hermann reached over and plucked Newton’s glasses off of the nightstand and leaned forward, gently placing them on his face.

Newt blinked at him, gaze focusing.  “Whoa, dude,” he croaked.  “You look like shit.  Are you okay?”

For what had to have been at least the third time in the past week and a half, Hermann cried.  He hadn’t intended to, but he’d had an alarming lack of self-control recently and the sob tore its way out of his chest despite his attempts to stop it.  

Newton’s eyes widened.  “Hermann, whoa, hey.”  He sat up with a wince and tried to disentangle himself from the bedsheets.  "W-what happened?"

Hermann leaned forward abruptly.  “Do _not_ attempt to get out of bed, you fool,” he hissed through his tears.

Newt’s warm – _alive_ – arms wrapped around him.  Hermann pressed his face into Newton’s shoulder, hoping to stem the flow of tears, but all he really succeeded in doing was soak his hospital gown in a matter of seconds.  He held onto Newton as tightly as he dared without risking aggravating his condition.

The other man chuckled weakly and patted him softly on the back.  "Wow, looks like _someone's_ happy to see me."

"Newton, that's a bedpan."

"Oh."

~

The medical staff were eager to get Newton out of the infirmary once he was conscious and alert.  The rush to shoo away a man who had nearly _died_ rankled Hermann, even though from a rational standpoint he understood that Newton was stable and the space he was occupying could be filled with someone in greater need of medical attention.  That and he suspected Newton was not the most compliant of patients.  The young man who officiated Newton's release looked almost grateful as Hermann hooked his arm in Newt's and guided him out of the infirmary.

They’d put Newton on medical leave for one month, with the promise – or threat – that if he didn’t follow his doctor’s advice and get enough rest and/or did something to aggravate his condition the leave _would_ be extended, perhaps indefinitely.  He certainly wasn’t in any condition to work in his current state.  

The gas Newton had inhaled had not been viral or bacterial in nature – and by some miracle whatever it was didn’t seem to be as corrosive and damaging as kaiju blue,  but it _had_ caused some lung damage.  He also had more than a few bruises and even a couple of broken ribs, though Hermann wasn’t sure if it had been his resuscitation attempts or the medical team’s that were responsible.  

The doctor who had explained all this to the two of them before they left had said Newton would probably make a full recovery, more or less, and Hermann was a bit concerned by the vagueness of the “more or less” part, but he would take what he could get.  It was more than he had a week ago.

~

When they arrived at Newton's quarters, the other man sat on the edge of his bed, looking very tired and a bit confused.  Hermann wasn't sure if it was the lingering effects of pain medication or just the day's events, but he looked so... lost.

"Perhaps you should stay in my quarters for the duration of your recovery," he found himself saying.

Newt blinked up at him, like it took him awhile to process what Hermann had said.  “Are you– are you asking me to move in?”

“I-- I suppose I am.  You need looking after.”  

It was the wrong thing to say, and Hermann knew it the moment the words left his mouth and Newt’s brow furrowed and pinched in an all-too-familiar, damnably _stubborn_ way.  “Oh so, you’re just–”

“Newton–”

“Would you still be asking me if what happened _hadn’t_ happened?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I–”  Newt caught himself in mid-sentence and gawked at him.  “What?”

Hermann continued, “I might not have planned to ask you at this _exact_ moment originally, no, but it’s been something I’ve been considering for some time before this.”

“It is?”

“Newton, you spend more time here – or in the lab – than you do your own room.  You practically live here already.  This would simply make it… official.”

“Official, huh?  Well, that sounds… official.”

“If you would feel more comfortable staying in your own quarters, I’ll understand.”

“What?  No.  I– no, dude.”  A blush was slowly creeping across his cheeks.  “I–  yes.  Yes, to the moving in, I mean.”

Hermann smiled.

Newt broke into a tired but happy grin and stepped forward to hug him.  “Besides, you know I’m only using you for your orthopedic mattress, right?”

~

Newton spent the first several days after his release almost completely bedridden – only getting up to occasionally stretch his legs, go to the bathroom, and eat.  He didn’t even fuss much about his mandatory medical leave, which said a lot about how unwell he was feeling.  On a good day, the man could barely be contained.  Now he was constantly exhausted and didn’t seem to be getting nearly enough sleep despite the extra time he was spending in bed.

Hermann called periodically throughout the day to see how he was doing, but even that he could only do so often.  Newton had trouble maintaining extended conversation without it aggravating his breathing difficulties and rendering him _completely_ speechless, and it made Hermann want to take back every time he’d told him he talked too much.

He wished he could take the time off to look after him for awhile, but he still had important work to do, and Newton’s accident hadn’t changed that.  From a professional standpoint, it was bad enough that Newton was going to be out of commission for at _least_ a month – possibly more if there were any unforeseen complications during his recovery.  From a more personal standpoint, the lab felt empty without Newton buzzing around on the other side of it.  

The first few days were a walk in the park compared to the days that followed them, and Hermann wasn’t sure to be relieved or aggravated when Newton started feeling well enough to take to wandering around the Shatterdome unsupervised while his breathing capacity and overall stamina levels still left much to be desired.

Inevitably this resulted in two occasions of Newt being missing when Hermann finished work for the day and returned to their quarters and – on one particularly memorable occasion – Hermann receiving a call from Tendo that began with the words “don’t panic” and ended with the words “waiting for you to pick him up from the infirmary.”

It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.  Hermann could hardly blame him for feeling restless, but he was in no condition to be wandering.  A fact the man seemed stubbornly insistent on ignoring.

~

Newton waking him up in the middle of the night had never been an uncommon occurrence, but when Hermann woke one night to the sound of harsh, persistent coughing, he immediately snapped to attention.  The other man was lying on his back, chest heaving as he visibly struggled to breathe.

“Are you alright?”  All things considered, it was a foolish question.  Newton was far from being alright in any possible sense of the word.  

“I’m– I’m– yeah, I’m good.”  

Hermann sighed, and nudged his shoulder gently.  “Roll over onto your side, it’ll help.”

“...R-really?”

“ _Yes_ , really.”

Newt rolled over onto his side, wheezing and clutching his pillow to his chest – tightly, which probably wasn’t helping matters.

“It’s alright,” Hermann said quietly, rubbing his back.  He could feel Newt trembling under his hands.  “You’re safe.  You’re alright.”

The other man exhaled and loosened his death grip on the pillow.  “How did you know that would help?”

“I was prone to respiratory infections as a child.  Lying on your side helps lessen the pressure on your lungs.”  Hermann briefly considered going down to the infirmary and throttling the medical staff for not explaining any of this to Newton before they released him.

“Cool.  Uh, the breathing thing, not the infection thing.”

They laid there in silence for awhile, the only sound the pained wheeze of Newton’s breathing.  

Hermann continued to rub his back gently.  “Should I call someone?”

“Nah, I’m– I’m alright.  It doesn’t really _hurt_ , it just feels kind of… tight?  When I breathe in too deep.  I think that’s what woke me up.”

“It’s not surprising that you would have some degree of difficulty.  You _did_ inhale a large amount of toxic fumes.”

After a few moments, Newt quietly started, "How long was I–”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Hermann regretted mentioning it.

Newton wasn’t so easily dissuaded, however.  He huffed – though it sounded more like a wheeze – and rolled over so he could look at Hermann without keeping his head turned at such an awkward angle.  “It _does_ , dude.  Call me crazy, but I’d like to know how long my brain was deprived of oxygen.  I’d like to know if I have brain damage or–”

“Newton, I think the doctors would have mentioned something if that were–”

Newt paled, which was a considerable feat considering his pallor hadn’t been particularly healthy-looking to begin with.  “So _what_?  I know a _little_ more about brains than those guys, okay?  I think I deserve to know–”

“Well within the safe amount of time.”

“Really?  You think so?  What’s considered a ‘safe amount of time’ to be _dead_ , Hermann?!”  Newt blinked several more times, quickly, and Hermann had known the man long enough to recognize when he was becoming upset.

He reached out for Newt’s shoulder and tugged him gently.  Newton allowed himself to be pulled close and pressed his face into Hermann’s shoulder.  

“It doesn’t matter how long you were gone.  You’re here now.”

The other man shook in his arms, and Hermann couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying.  “What a line, man.  Have you been saving that one?”

“Well, I knew you were bound to nearly get yourself killed sooner or later.”

He was almost certain the sound Newton made then was a laugh, though it tore out of his chest awkwardly and sent him into a coughing fit.  

“Oww, don’t make me laugh.  It hurts.”

“I’m sorry about your ribs.”

“Dude, don’t worry about it.  I’m alive, so I think it’s a pretty fair trade-off.”

Hermann smiled softly and kissed the top of Newton’s head.  “I’m inclined to agree.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't clear, Newt cut something open and... _stuff_ of some kind spewed out and he breathed it in. I feel like the odds of Hermann finding Newt _right_ after the accident and the accident itself not being immediately fatal would actually be pretty slim, but I wiggled for the sake of a hurt/comfort fic instead of a deathfic. I am weak. XD
> 
> I might eventually write a companion piece from Newt's perspective, because there are some things I would have liked to have covered that didn't really work from Hermann's perspective.


End file.
